John's Wedding
by rememberedenx3
Summary: Sherlock is John's best man at his wedding. "Rolling his eyes, Sherlock nodded unenthusiastically. 'Yes, yes. It will be perfect: dull, boring, completely predictable...'" Unfortunately for John, it will not. John/OC & Sherlock/Irene
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This idea kept coming to me while I tried to imagine how Sherlock/Irene would work if they were a couple, and how 221B Baker Street would function as the characters started settling down. This is a little AU crack!fic written for my friend Naomi and myself, exploring the friendship of Sherlock & John with some little romance with Sherlock/Irene. For the sake of the story, John is not marrying Mary, but rather my own original character Jane (who really isn't all that important, and you don't have to like her if you don't want to).

I hope you like it, feedback is lovely!

**Disclaimer:** None of these characters are mine; they belong to Arthur Conan Doyle & BBC's Sherlock series

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John entered the room cautiously; he hadn't been to Baker Street in days, trying to help Jane prepare for the wedding. He tried contacting his roommate during his absence from their flat-Sherlock was, after all, his best man-but as the days grew closer to the big day, John was growing more and more nervous that Sherlock Holmes...didn't understand his role in the wedding party.

"Sherlock," John called out. He scanned the room, but no one else was there. "Sherlock Holmes, I have been calling you all day! You were suppose to pick up my suit last week!"

"Why would I do that?" Sherlock asked, coming up the stairs behind John. He was wearing his scarf and coat, clearly having just arrived from the cold London weather outside.

"Because I asked you to. Sherlock, are you listening?"

"Have you seen my pen, John?" his friend asked, tossing his coat onto the coffee table without a care. "I can't seem to find it, been looking for days..."

John glared at the random books and papers scattered across the floor and furniture. "Maybe it's because you're living in a war zone?"

"What?"

"Sherlock, what did you do to the kitchen?"

Sherlock frowned, looking at the half-completed experiments, some that required severed body parts nicked from the morgue-on the kitchen counter and dining table. "What do you mean? Those are important, John."

"Yeah, so is my suit! I'm getting married on Saturday, Sherlock! You're suppose to be my best man!"

"Yes," Sherlock sighed. "I know. Hold the rings, give a toast...Irene told me."

John licked his lips quickly, trying to hold back his temper. "And make sure everything is running smoothly. And pick up my suit from the cleaners before they give it to someone else on accident!"

"What?" Sherlock murmured, but he wasn't listening. He was turning over the cushions to the sofas by the television, conveniently ignoring the glass of water on the side table that clearly had been sitting there for days, leaving water residue to stain the wood.

"Are you a bit embarrassed over the state of the flat?" John asked exasperatedly. "What has Mrs. Hudson said about it?"

"She deemed it unlivable and has not set foot inside for the past three days, it's been wonderful!" Sherlock grinned. "Oh, here it is!" He pulled out a silver pen from under John's favorite chair. "I love this pen!"

John rubbed his eyes and pleaded, "Sherlock, I really need you to listen to me. I am freaking out here!"

"Just get a new suit, John."

"A new-? D-do you have any idea how much that costs? To get it tailored and pressed! Sherlock, I am-"

"-getting married, I know," Sherlock finished, wrinkling his nose slightly. "And while I do not understand your desire to...partake in such...outdated traditions-"

"Oh, my god," John muttered to himself.

"-I accept full responsibility for what happened, and you can use my card." He smiled, shrugging. "Think of it as my contribution to your wedding!"

"Thanks," but John was not keen on being dismissed so easily. "But you still have to be my best man, you know. It doesn't end with buying me clothes. You have a speech, right?"

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock nodded unenthusiastically. "Yes, yes. It will be perfect: dull, boring, completely predictable. Irene's writing it for me."

"What?" John held his breath, just for a moment, to make sure he knew what dying felt like. "Why is she writing your speech?"

"Apparently my own words are offensive."

"To whom?"

"Your bride."

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**A/N: **Chapter 2 will be up shortly, & don't forget to review! :) Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Wow, thanks for the lovely reviews! Today's a snow day, so I figured I would put the next chapter up. Sorry it's so short, it'll be longer next time :)

**Disclaimer:** None of these characters are mine; they belong to Arthur Conan Doyle & BBC's Sherlock series

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It was the day of the wedding. The sun was shining, there were light, wispy clouds floating across the blue sky, and a slight breeze helped cool his nerves as John stood outside the back door of the church, waiting for Sherlock to arrive.

His friend was suppose to have be there over an hour ago, since the ceremony would be beginning in fifteen minutes, but Sherlock wasn't answering his mobile and Irene was too busy being a bridesmaid to notice his disappearance.

"Irene," John had tried earlier, "Have you seen Sherlock today?"

"Yeah, yeah," she distractedly answered, gathering the bridesmaids bouquets onto a table, "I saw him this morning. He was all dressed up and everything."

"He was?" John blinked in surprised. "You don't-d'you think something happened to him? He was suppose to be here twenty minutes ago."

"Try his phone, John." Irene gave an apologetic smile that didn't reassure him, like it meant to. "I'm sorry, but Jane is having me run around the place. Why don't you go inside the church and just relax? I'm sure he'll turn up."

So that's what he had done before growing so anxious, he felt he was suffocating inside the small sanctuary. He went outside, where he stood now, and kept sneaking glances at the busy London streets, hoping to see Sherlock skipping up the steps, oblivious to how close he was actually cutting it.

John pulled out his phone again and dialed a number. It went straight to voicemail, and clenching his teeth, he hissed, "Sherlock Holmes, where the hell are you? If you didn't want to do this, you should've told me from the start. I need the rings. I need to make sure nothing goes wrong. I am freaking out, you overgrown obnoxious prick-"

"Can you say that at a church?" a voice asked him from behind.

John whirled around and found Sherlock Holmes buttoning his last cuff link, smirking.

"Did I miss anything?" he asked.

"Are you insane?"

"Not today, John. Shall we?"

Glaring furiously, John followed his best man into the church...just in time for the start of the service. He had no doubts he would be killing Sherlock Holmes before the night's end.

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**A/N:** Please review!


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